Benevolence
by Kalean
Summary: Long after the events in Tekkaman Blade II, the Earth and its latest generation Tekkaman continue to struggle against Radam. Yet this is not their story, for while Earth and its colonies continue to fight, another system has already fallen. (Please R&R..)
1. Ablaze In Gold

Radam, Tekkaman, and all related concepts are copyright their owners (Most likely Tatsunoko) and/or their licensees. All characters, except when expressly noted, are my own intellectual property, and belong to me, myself, and I. Standard stuff.  
  
---- Benevolence - Chapter 1 - Ablaze in Gold ----  
  
Mere words fail to describe the blistering heat in the dimly lit cave that day. Jets of molten lava roiled through long eroded channels in the floor, casting a vermillion glow upon the obsidian rocks that surrounded them. Violet blood stained one particular outcropping, slowly evaporating in the hellish climate. Perched on one knee, oblivious to the temperature of the air around him, a lone figure stretched out an arm towards the fiery blaze. Held aloft by the strength of his wrist alone hung a gargantuan mutated carcass the likes of which human eyes had never beheld, and never would. His hand released its prize into the churning river of magma and rock below, which in turn rose up and swallowed its victim, forever consuming it in fire and brimstone.  
  
"I have completed target acquisition. Requesting immediate vehicular reinforcements at location Six Zero Delta Twelve. Target is armed. I repeat, the target is armed. Reccomend extreme caution."  
  
Bringing to life a small dervish of rock and red dust, he stood and turned on his heel. His job finished, the cloaked figure strode towards the opening of the cave, the sunlight beckoning him from without. Feeling the presence that was amassing outside the cave, he quickened his pace. His light leather boots took on mottled hues of burgundy from the parched soil pushing up around them. Unconsciously his right hand lowered a few centimeters closer to the hilt of his sword.  
  
"All units, spread out in formation 218-B. 25 meter minimum distance from the entrance. Take aim and hold your positions. ETA in five.. four.. "  
  
Slipping his right hand completely underneath his somewhat weathered jacket, the youthful looking man gripped his sheath and tilted it slightly, readying it for an attack as he stepped through the threshold. The pupils in his golden eyes dilated, as the momentarily blinding white light of the forest beyond washed over him. As the sun bore down upon his short cut silver hair and thin but not unimpressive figure, his eyes adjusted to the new level of lighting, narrowing slightly at what it presented to them.  
  
"Target in sight. All units, hold fire unless engaged. Anti Personnel vehicles, take up positions in 15 degree separations. Maintain line of sight with target at all times."  
  
In stark contrast to the way the sun softly highlighted the man's tanned face, it glinted and glanced off the tank batallions and airborne support units, as they amassed behind the circular waves of heavily armed infantry. In tight formation, the 28th Slider squad hovered above the tree cover, their intimidating presence sending an obvious message to the young form that stood before them.  
  
"Crux Caedon. You have been declared a traitor to the nation of Solitia, and will now be taken into custody. Please come along quietly, and with no resistance, and you will receive a fair trial." The voice, routed in through the lead Slider's Comm System, spoke with much authority and volume, and a very confident air.  
  
The man's eyes widened as the corners of his mouth showed his disapproval with the situation. While he was almost gentle in appearance, his voice was sharp, almost frightening, as it pierced the light caucophany of the small forest.  
  
"Fair trial? I tend to doubt it. Your lies will end with the days of your fragile regime."  
  
The magnetically charged rail rifles all raised up a notch, their ultra- violet aiming lights all swarming around the man's chest like a partially visible storm of gnats.  
  
"How typical, another would be revolutionary. All units, open fire!"  
  
As magnetically propelled slugs traveled directly towards the man's head and chest at velocities approaching the speed of light, wind displacement from the blasts quickly leveled trees and cracked the rocks of the cave. Blazing white hot mortar rounds exploded down from above the man's position, and tank and air support units alike spewed forth tactical quantum reaction rounds, like breaths of fire and sulfur from a hellhound. The force of the blasts collapsed the cave in on intself in a giant clash of sounds, forever burying whatever possible discoveries could be found within the heated structure. Wave upon wave of rail rifle rounds poured into the area, even as the choking dust made it difficult to breathe, and reduced the visibility to nothing. For seemingly endless periods of time, they continued firing, obviously not taking pause to ensure anything identifiable would be left of the foolish youth that defied their empire.  
  
"Cease fire!!"  
  
As abruptly as it started, the chorus of death stopped short, leaving nothing but painful echoes flying through the battlefield. Chalky red dust slowly settled back down to the earthy surface from which it came. Silence eventually replaced even the echoes of battle, and the warriors took the pause to reload their weapons and eject their propellant casings. All eyes stared towards the target of the violence as the dust dissipated like a coarse mist. Seeing the mutilated and incomprehensible remains of their victims always brought with it a satisfaction in their work, the feeling of a job well done...  
  
This was not their day.  
  
The blazing gold eyes glared maliciously out of the red plume of dust, as the man stepped forward into view, ruddish stains caking his jacket. The dust swirled around him, lending a surreal feeling of impending doom to his single step. The nebulous cloud once more swirled forward and engulfed him, masking him from view. Only his now brightly glowing pupils could be seen, shining forth from the blood red darkness with an unnatural irridescence.  
  
"Target threat persists, target threat persists!"  
  
The settling dust revealed massive amounts of spent metal slugs lying at the man's feet, depleted shells scattered all around him in disarray. The land around his feet was unscathed for a foot in every direction, a noticeable difference from the scorched ground beyond it. His thumb pushed his weapon a mere two inches out from its sheath, an unsettling white glow radiating from the beautifully etched oriental sword. Frightened and unbelieving whispers and exclamations crackled through the small short range radio network, dread rising within the hearts of the infantry now suddenly so exposed and vulnerable at only a mere 20 meters from this threat.  
  
"Wh--... All ground units, pull back! Sliders, make a melee run, before he can draw that sword! MOVE!"  
  
Fear and uncertainty emanated from the infantry units as they scurried away as fast as their legs could take them, looking back over their shoulders at the man they had depleted whole rail rifle clips into. The brilliant golden eyes flashed, if only for an instant, burning themselves into the minds of all who had chosen to look back. They would not soon forget this day. As movement headed away from him in all directions, the massive atmospheric flight equipped battle mecha that were known as Sliders swooped towards the man that had made a fool out of the Solitian empire merely by taking a step. The sword flashed, the Sliders screamed towards their target, and a deafening roar filled the ears of every being within miles, and then there was nothing but silence.  
  
"Slide Leader, come in. I repeat, Slide Leader, come in. Report the target's capture status... Slide Leader, report!" Static crackled over the radio, but nothing more. "Slide Leader, do you read? Slide Leader, I'm ordering you to report! SLIDE LEADER!"  
  
A faintly glowing radio unit gargled the words out across the battlefield, hanging out from the downed battle mecha in several pieces, shouting curses at deaf ears. Slowly the radio grew silent, the removal of its primary power source draining it of life. Off in the distance, a cloaked figure slowly walked towards the horizon, his left hand holding a very special prize indeed.. 


	2. Grace In Death

It was beautiful. The setting sunlight shining through the water, the crystal-clear droplets' tumultuous fall from the precipice to the lake below, the schools of fish jetting through the serene blue; it was perfect. Nature's balance shone through in every aspect of that lake. From the plants below, swaying gently in the current, to the tiny woodland creatures gathered at the edges, drinking their fill, a perfect harmony filled the area with a tranquility that could never be matched by anything created by the efforts of man.  
  
Perfection never lasts long. The reaction rounds soared through the sky in a spiraling pattern of destruction. If the small creatures had been capable of understanding the events unfolding above them, they would have stared in awe at the man dashing through the air between the fiery blasts, precisely using the force from each blast to propel himself further into the air. They would have understood that the large flying machines were attempting to destroy this man with every ounce of power they had. But they did not. All they understood was that this was frightful. This was horrible. This was death. They scampered off every direction in vain before hell's fire rained down upon them, and the tranquil scene was lost in a bath of red and orange.  
  
The man known as Crux only barely noticed as the aftermath of his fight erased the beautiful clearing from existence, but he felt the sting as surely as he had felt it a thousand times before. More destruction, more death, all because of him and his personal war. He had often wondered what right he had to bring such pain upon others who bore him no ill will. But it was not his time to grieve. The fraction of second spent lost in his thoughts brought him into the path of a slider's scythe. It was a similar fraction that found him twisting in midair, landing upon the flat of that scythe as if there were no more natural place to stand. Four hundred meters up, in the midst of a half dozen airborne mecha, it was perhaps the only place one could stand.  
  
One moment's hesitation on the pilot's part saw his craft's arm severed at the elbow joint, a brilliant slash of light illuminating the twilight sky even as it melted through the slider's limb. A sword of unmatched beauty preceded the slash, Crux's left arm gripping the hilt as if he was barely keeping hold, as if perhaps the sword itself was responsible for the attack. As he spiraled down through the air upon the severed limb, Crux could not help but note the irony that in a way, it truly was responsible. Sheathing his sword and setting his musings aside, he leapt off the arm with enough force to completely halt his fall. For one single moment, he was merely suspended in the air, neither falling nor rising. In that moment, the sliders pursuing him rushed down past him, giving him the advantage he needed.  
  
Battling the wind displacement from the sliders' descent, Crux's right arm swung out towards the disarmed slider that remained above him, understandably hesitant to pursue. This trepidation would prove fatal. A shimmering blue line flew out from his wrist at an alarming speed, zipping towards the doomed pilot's cockpit in the center of the mecha. Through the thin sheet of transparent metal alloy it flew, the pilot only glimpsing a brilliant flash of blue before the small cerulean diamond burst through his control panel and anchored itself in the wall behind him. It was a few moments before the pilot realized that the thin blue line had ignored the obstacle of his throat on the way to the wall. As his blood started welling up in his mouth, the pilot had only one more moment of blurred vision to note the silver haired youth flying towards him on a collision course. He did not understand that the man had merely fired a grappling device. All he could think as his target landed inverted upon the cockpit was that this creature was inhuman. Red tinged his vision, regrets filled his mind, and then there was nothing but darkness.  
  
Crouched sideways upon the hull of the slider as the grapple held him in place, Crux had not the time to mourn the life he had just ended. Instead, he released the line and lept off the mecha with an unbelievable amount of force. As the slider crashed into the ground, deprived of the pilot that had once commanded it, Crux once more hung suspended in the air, a mere twelve meters from the ground. He could feel his body ache at the stress of such a jump and sudden stop, but it wasn't over yet. He leaned forward with his hands outstretched to cushion his fall as he rolled to his feet, already breaking into a run even as the first foot hit the ground. The lead slider was separated from the other remaining four, just ahead. It was his chance to end this fight without endangering any more innocent lives.  
  
Once more the blade was unsheathed as its owner sped towards the small crowd of Mecha. Ascending through the air with another well placed vault, the silver haired youth gave the pilots a dubious gift-- a quick and merciful death. The incomparable oriental blade- sharpened down to the mono- molecular edge by a process not of this world- had no obstacle in slashing midway through the cockpit of a slider as Crux soared past. His line of ascent continued straight into the cockpit of a second mecha, his sword brought forward in an arc to bear down upon the pilot, piercing the alloy, the view panel, and the pilot.  
  
Crux fell a full 25 meters to the ground on his back, momentarily stunned from the force of his impact. His vision was greying out, and blood threatened to rise within his throat. He looked at his right hand, wondering if it was time. A light green shone from within the palm as if in response to his unasked question. No, he was not quite ready yet, he would have to deal with the remaining three on his own strength. He closed his eyes and his left hand gripped the unsheathed katana tightly. He could feel the blade's light slowly dimming. That first day he had taken it up, it had been a brilliantly blinding white, as if the sword itself were pure white fire, its light piercing through any and everything. After all this time, it still emitted a radiance, but the glow lessened with every life he extinguished. Crux knew there was a lesson to be learned there, but he wasn't about to wax philosophical now, with his life on the line. He slowly stood to his feet, sheathing his sword and tilting it in preparation for another use of its incredible force. He felt some of the luminescence seep into his arm as he had countless times before, and he knew he would make it through this. Crux's silver hair was freckled with dust as he stood, but his eyes once more took on an unsettling golden radiance, and the fight was once more upon him.  
  
***  
  
He was walking. In front of him was a long line of hills, as beautiful as it was vast. He was uncertain of his destination, but he knew what he would do once he arrived. His right hand burned, a fire without heat raging inside of it. The left hand pressed the lead slider's power crystal into the right, and the pain subsided. The green light within the palm slowly quieted to a light blue glow. As the power supply melded into his palm, his posture straightened, and his wounds began to mend. Hairline fractures reset and stitched themselves, small cuts closed up, and the glow disappeared, leaving an unharmed and gentle looking man to walk towards the hills. He had ended 6 lives this day, his sword had lost just that much more strength. He looked off into the night sky, and was lost in his thoughts. 


	3. Crux In Deux

It was wonderful. The downy clouds framed the rising sun, its brilliant hues giving them a life all their own. Sachi loved looking at the morning sky as daylight washed over the valley. There was something re-assuring in that radiance, something that made her feel warm and safe. As long as she could wake each morning to watch the beautiful glow, she felt she would always be happy.  
  
"Sachi!" A moment's silence preceded a second, louder call. "Sachi! Breakfast!"  
  
Startled out of her reverie by her mother's call, the young child quickly climbed to her feet and ran off towards the wonderful smell that was tickling her nose. Today was the first of the week, and that always meant her favorite meals all day long.  
  
Sachi burst through the door, a shooting star of energy and youthful enthusiasm, as always. And as always, the stern hand caught her by the back of the collar as she ran by, and lifted her into the air as it had dozens upon dozens of times before.  
  
"Now Sachi, what have your mother and I always told you about wandering out in the fields alone?" A knowing smile played on her father's face. His bright hair shone in the morning light, as his arm held her aloft despite her persistent struggling.  
  
"I know, I know, It's dangerous and something could happen and there are mean people in the world and I could get lost and then Mom's heart would break and you'd never get over it and you and Mom would cry for the rest of your lives and..." Sachi had heard her mother give the speech too many times to count, but she loved the fields; running through the tall grass, letting the sun wash over her face, and playing with the birds were things that brought her boundless joy every day. She knew her father understood, but he always lectured her anyways. ".. and it would be the end of the world, all because of me."  
  
"Well I don't know about all that..." His smile brought one of her own to her face as he unceremoniously let her plop back to the ground. "But it is dangerous... So don't do it." He leaned down out of his chair and winked. "And if you do, don't let Mom find out, ok?" Sachi giggled and ran off to get ready for breakfast.  
  
"Really dear, you're too easy on her. She has to learn not to always go running off alone, or one day we're going to lose her." Miya set the fresh soup bowls down on the matted floor, turning to look at her husband with a scathing look that conveyed her disapproval with his 'lecture'.  
  
"Now look, honey, the girl just loves being outside, it calls to her. You were like that once too, is it really so bad?" He knelt down before his breakfast, inhaling deeply.  
  
"You know as well as I do, things aren't the same these days. With all the warlords' squabbling over the lands, and their pet Samurai, it's hardly safe for anyone to be out alone, not to mention an innocent young girl like Sachi. And with you out so often with your work..." Miya let out a deep sigh, her kimono rising and falling with her breath. "I'm just concerned for her." She was sorry she'd mentioned her husband's practice, she knew he'd be leaving again soon.  
  
"I understand, but we can't just keep her cooped up inside and try to make her frightened of the outside world all the time. She'll probably have to make her living in the fields, we shouldn't keep her from enjoying them. Besides, she's so happy out there."  
  
She sighed again, she hated trying to convince her husband of anything, he was so single-minded, he could hardly ever see past the here and now. What if Sachi disappeared? What would they do without her? She was their life-- no, even more. She was their daughter. The culmination of their love for each other, and the center of all their care. She was the thing they cherished more than anything in the world.  
  
"I guess Mother was right, we Caedon women do pick the most impractical and carefree men to go and fall in love with. What am I going to do with you? She's our daughter, for heaven's sake."  
  
The man's eyes gleamed a light hazel, and a sheepish grin stumbled across his face. "That's precisely the reason we shouldn't hold her back." Setting his emptied bowl down, he stood and headed towards the door.  
  
"Are you already leaving? Sachi hasn't even finished cleaning up yet.." Miya's voice was casual, but her eyes revealed the sorrow she felt at her husband's hurry to leave.  
  
His loving smile eased her heart even as his amber eyes looked deep into her soul and told her how much he wished he could stay. "I know, but I hate saying goodbye to her every day, it hurts her, as if she's worried I won't come back. Besides, Mr. Shinta's son is very ill, I'll need as much time with him today as possible if I'm to help him through this." His smile melted slowly away, as he turned to go. "Tell Sachi I love her."  
  
Miya looked after him with eyes full of concern for both her lifemate and her daughter. "Of course... and Crux?" Her husband's head turned back to face her, the morning hues highlighting his silver hair and bristly face. "Try not to be gone so long this time, alright?" One last precious smile from him, and he was out the door, and off towards the hills. The brilliant rising star in the sky silhouetted his form against the foliage, and then he was gone. Miya sighed and looked at her untouched breakfast. She wondered how long it would be before she would see her husband again, and turned to look into the morning sky...  
  
***  
  
The morning sky... As he marched over the hills, Crux remembered that day so long ago. Different choices that day could have led to a different life, a different destiny; but those were choices he had long since made, there was nothing he could do now. Changing the past was far beyond his abilities. All that was left to him now was to change the future. He closed his eyes and hoped he was equal to the task. His hand gripped the sheath of his sword tighter, and his thoughts drifted again, aimlessly. No, not quite aimlessly; they drifted away... away from the bittersweet memory of that day, a day he would never forget, for it was the last time he would see his wife and daughter alive. 


	4. Hope In Vain

He had been walking for quite some time. A full hour had passed now since his departure, leaving his wife and daughter behind him. The Shinta residence was finally in sight, and as he stepped out of the brush he could make out the sounds of children playing. Dusting himself off, Crux smiled and walked towards the entryway, noting the happy faces of the children as they ran around in endless circles. Their voices rose in playful song as he passed by. Some of the children stopped and waved to him, beautiful smiles on their faces and giddy laughter in their hearts. He stepped through the door, and was immediately plunged into a far more serious atmosphere. The matriarch of the house looked up from beside her strick child's bed, greetings and concern playing a mixed concert upon her face.  
  
"Dr. Caedon, thank you for coming. His symptoms have been getting worse every day you've been away." The middle aged woman was quite beautiful, but the worry and stress of caring for her dying son had aged her face prematurely, making her easily mistakable for someone 10 years her senior at first glance. For three years now her first born child, now thirteen years old, had been stricken with a plague that was only known as the 'cessation'. Unpredictable, unstoppable, and incurable, the disease ravaged the populace seemingly at random, slowly sapping all of the victim's strength until they died an empty shadow of their former self. Those years had taken their toll on her, but despite it all, the mother had remained by her child's side.  
  
"I see, it looks like it has progressed into a more advanced stage." Crux leaned forward and put a hand on the child's forehead. He resisted the urge to immediately withdraw his hand as he felt the heat and darkness from the blight that gripped the poor child. He closed his eyes and checked the boy's pulse momentarily, and then smiled, noticing the pulse quicken at his touch. "He's awake."  
  
Sure enough, the young man's eyelids fluttered open slowly, his breaths coming ragged, a price the disease's victims paid for consciousness. He was unable to speak, but his pale blue eyes clearly begged for relief. Crux smiled and nodded his head, as if in response to the boy's unspoken request for an end to the pain.  
  
"Dr. Caedon is here, dear, everything's going to be ok now..." The mother put on a brave smile for her son and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. The child smiled weakly, but as best he could. She knew her son was doing his best to keep her from worrying. He was such a loving child, always trying to think of her feelings even as pain ran through his entire body. Every time it seemed as if he was about to get better the disease would get even stronger, but his spirit never subsided. She wished she could help him escape this pain, if only to see his joyous carefree smile once more. She looked into the doctor's eyes, and her own conveyed this all to Crux in a single expression of mixed sorrow and hope.  
  
Crux knelt down next to the boy and ran his hands back and forth a few inches above his patient. He began to chant various hymns to which he did not know the words. His hands began to form subtle after images and as the mother and child were distracted, his fingers met various places on the boy; Checking his pulse, his breathing, and overall body temperature, Crux did everything he could to determine how far the boy had gone. His little show, chanting and all, were more for the benefit of the mother than the patient. He saw in the boy's eyes that he did not expect to live. But the young man smiled anyways- he was a brave child. Crux felt it was important that the mother felt that there was hope. Better for her to be spared the weeks of misery that would come if he were to tell her the awful truth, the truth that was confirmed by the information he gathered from his tests. The boy was not long for this world, the vile disease sapping away every bit of strength he had. There was only one small glimmer of hope left, even if Crux didn't believe it would do any good, he owed it to this boy and his parents to do anything he could.  
  
He fetched a special concoction from his pack, gently pouring some into the boy's slightly open and parched lips. "This should ease the pain for a while." The boy's eyes closed as the anesthetic brought him into a deep sleep, his breathing once again becoming natural. "The medicine will, however, need to be administered by your own hands in the future, Ms. Shinta." He fetched a salve he had spent the last 3 weeks preparing, and made sure the mother watched as he spread it on the side of the boy's neck, precisely along the path of the carotid arteries. "This salve must be washed and replaced every day, it is very important, it may save your son's life." Crux doubted it inside, but the more hope the woman had, the easier the future would be for her. He knew that the special mixture would increase the amount of oxygen going to his brain, as well as strengthen the immune system to fight this terrible disease. It was a very potent mixture, but faced with the cessation, he felt it was like building a wooden wall in the path of a hurricane. The mixture would help the boy for a while, perhaps even allow him to stand again; however, Crux was unsure of the long term results. But he could not stay to check on the boy every day, he had his own family to attend to, and as much as he cared about the Shinta household, they could not afford to pay his bills.  
  
Crux stood as the father joined them in the room, but whatever advice Crux was prepared to give him stuck in his throat at the man's horrified expression. Crux wanted to ask what had happened, but he already knew something was terribly wrong. It took him a moment to notice that there were no more sounds of children playing outside. He rushed out the door to find the now frightened children huddled against the small frame of the house, trying to hide themselves in the shadows. Looking around, he saw nothing unusual. Nothing, except...  
  
Crux's eyes widened as he craned his neck to look closer at the sky. The clouds above him were soft and white, as beautiful as they had been when he left. The string of clouds beyond however, moving slowly back over the forest, were dark and convulsive. Something about them was unnatural as they pulsated, a completely solid black that blotted out the very sun as they passed underneath it. He could not see too far ahead, for the shadows they cast were as dark as the night. The father hobbled out of the house after Crux, rapidly spouting words that made no sense. Crux could barely comprehend as the man spilled out word after word about ominous soldiers and hordes of darkness, but he was not truly listening. There was a purpose in the movement of the clouds. They were heading back over the way he had come, the exact path, down to the turn around the hills.  
  
An endless distance in the future, Crux would have quivered in fear as he laid eyes upon the essence of destruction in its purest form. But here and now, he could only come to one conclusion about the dark mass drifting through the sky. This was no storm, this was something else entirely; this was death. A sickening realization filled him, as his previous thought amended itself in his mind; This was death, and it was heading towards his family.  
  
***  
  
Crux stopped walking, pulled out of his memories by a loud voice. His foot caused the dust below to rise into the air in a mist, slowly dissipating as it settled back to the ground. Three relatively lean figures, of an alien race unknown to him, stood in his path, eyes closed. The central one, clearly male, opened its eyes and repeated itself.  
  
"Crux Caedon, you have defied Solitian authority and are to be executed for treason. Do you have any last words?" If Crux heard the man's words, he did not give any indication of it. Instead, a small shudder ran through his body as he saw the man's eyes. A glowing blood red, the eyes were as unnatural as were Crux's own. As the other two opened their eyes to the same chilling effect, Crux knew he had been heading in the right direction, but he was far from overjoyed at the revelation. He looked down at his right hand and the light blue emanating from the palm, and sighed as he knew it still wasn't time. Part of him prayed that he was mistaken about the three standing before him, but he knew they wouldn't send three unarmed men to kill him. No, they were far from unarmed.  
  
Crux's fears proved true as the three men, in response to his continued silence, lifted their right hands into the air, each of them clutching an oddly shaped crystal. The shapes were different, but all three crystals shone with the same dark crimson. Words in a language he only vaguely recognized and even more vaguely understood emanated from their lips, and lightning shattered the heavens. With the night sky illuminated as if it were day, the three figures rose into the air, an energy nimbus swirling around each one. The truth was as apparent as it was grim, as their skin took on a metallic glean before completely giving way to a cold, virtually impregnable alloy. Their crimson eyes glowed through dark crystal visors. Their very bodies transformed from flesh and bone to chrome and crystal, and they stood before him. A good meter taller than they previously had been, these were no longer creatures of life, but harbingers of death. Crux spoke a single, hated word even as his body trembled, and he knew that this was going to be a very, very long night.  
  
"Radam." 


	5. Order In Chaos

The sound was deafening. Thrusters roared to life behind him as he jumped and weaved between branches in his mad dash through the forest. Rolling forward and to the right, Crux narrowly escaped beheading by a blade of coruscating energy that swept through the foliage, severing the nearby trees as it continued past him and on towards the infinite horizon. Cursing, he recovered from the roll and managed a stumbling run, keeping his head low as the tree canopy collapsed all around him. Blinding shards of red lanced through the surrounding vegetation as he ran, his pursuers' accuracy diminishing with their vision in the dark undergrowth.  
  
Glancing over his shoulder, Crux looked back in time to see one of the three Tekkaman launch a small crackling red ball of energy towards his position. There was no doubt in Crux's mind of the nature of that unbearable fire. Tekkaman, the most elite units that the race only known as 'Radam' controlled, routinely wielded anti-matter from their fingertips just as easily as one might flex a muscle. Crux dived forward, the blast swallowed the ground, and a sparkling crimson flash engulfed his reality.  
  
***  
  
The sound was deafening. His own heartbeat and ragged gasps drowned out the world around him. Animals scurried out of Crux's path in fear as he ran, back towards his home - towards the black, pulsating clouds that moved towards his family. Running as fast as he possibly could between the trees, Crux cursed himself for not being faster. He cursed his damnable human legs, he cursed his lungs for their weakness, but most of all, he cursed his own mind. Leaving his family unguarded - even if Miya could more than take care of herself - now felt so foolish. He had to get home as fast as possible. Nothing else mattered, as he burst out of the forest, looking towards his home, his family.  
  
The vision before him was dreadful. If it weren't for the motivation to protect his family, the sight of the black clouds swirling down out of the sky, lightning pulsing within them, would have caused him to stop dead in his tracks. His heart and lungs felt like they were on fire as he ran as fast as he could through the fields surrounding the only home he had ever known. There were loud and familiar sounds; swords clashed and voices rang out as Crux approached. He recognized one voice with hope in his heart - hope that was easily crushed as he heard it cry out in pain before it was silenced. Tears welled in his eyes as he somehow pushed himself further, ignoring the pain as his legs threatened to give out entirely. Painful moments passed as he ran, each one stretching on as if an eternity. With his head throbbing and his heart pounding, Crux finally burst out into the clearing..  
  
He stopped cold. Before Crux was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, as well as the strongest. But there was no joy in his heart, for there was no life in her body. A ragged cut ran diagonally down from his wife's right shoulder to her heart, her body sprawled over a pool of red. His eyes widened, and he dropped to his knees. He heard more inhuman voices further on, and part of him wanted to get up, but he could not move. Lying here amidst dark and lifeless unrecognizable forms was the woman he loved more than every other person in all the world. Every other person but one. He looked up to his home and spoke aloud, his heart filling once more with a fear powerful enough to contend with the shock that held him in place.  
  
"Sachi."  
  
***  
  
The ice cold fire flung the man forward with such force that everything greyed out as he was sent spiraling through the undergrowth. Crux leaned forward and slammed his hands down upon the ground, performing a desperate handspring even as his vision slowly returned. Spinning like a top through the air, Crux planted his right foot on the ground, pivoting to grind his left deep into the topsoil. The momentum from his spin added to the force of his attack as he drew his sword in a powerful diagonal slash, meeting the enemy Tekkaman's blade in midswing. Crux's legs tensed as they absorbed the massive force the impact created, bringing the flying enemy to a complete stop in midair as the swords ground against each other. For one single moment, Crux stared into the crystal visor and met his enemy's gaze. In that instant, he read everything about his opponent. Some say the eyes are a window to the soul. Crux was not so certain, but as his sword swung off the Tekkaman's blade, drawing Crux into a crouching spin that upturned the dirt beneath him, he knew that they had told him all he needed to know.  
  
As the radam soldier brought his rapier down upon the silver haired man, the hilt of Crux's incomparable blade met the rapier, and stopped it completely. Like all the swords of its time, the katana's blade extended deep into the hilt, crafted for endurance. The Tekkaman's head drew back in a mild amount of surprise at the resilient hilt; before the Radam had polluted his mind, the host had not been a swordsman. This was what Crux suspected, and while it saddened him inside that this Tekkaman was indeed one of the many people he wished to save, its moment of weakness was his moment of opportunity. The guard of Crux's sword drew the enemy's rapier off to the side even as the blade sliced cleanly through the bottom of the Tekkaman's shoulder joint, continuing upwards at an angle that severed its head. Even the incredible armor served as little deterrent for Crux's almost impossibly sharp katana. The blade emerged from the other side cleanly, dimming slightly once more at the loss of life. For the first time since he had picked up the sword, Crux was able to vaguely make out a rosary in the glint of the sword. Funny how such things distracted him in such a dangerous moment.  
  
"Dangerous indeed." Crux spoke to himself as he saw an enemy in the reflection of the sword. Without so much as a moment's hesitation, he dove forward shoulder first into the lifeless form of the first Tekkaman, aligning his own sword perpendicular in position to the dead enemy's. As he reached up and steadied the corpse's lifeless hand with his own, the two swords formed a cross shaped defense pattern, and the enemy slammed blade first into it. Sparks flew, purple blood splattered upon the ground, and Crux's vision was nothing but blackness once more.  
  
***  
  
A lifetime away...  
  
He was off again, towards his home, leaving his wife once more. Regret and pain filled Crux at the thought as his house loomed large;however, the noises were not coming from his home, they were coming from the shrine beyond. The Caedon family shrine, where for countless generations, his wife, her mother, and all her mothers before her had kept one thing safe. He could hear inhuman cackling as he turned past his house, and saw dark forms swoop towards the shrine through the air, just as quickly as he was running. They were closer, and they were in the shrine first. A small startled cry confirmed what he hoped. His daughter was still alive. He was almost there, he would stop them in time. He didn't know how, without any weapons, but he would do anything he had to. His thoughts were interrupted by his daughter's voice.  
  
"Stay back... I..." Crux could almost hear the panicked thoughts running through her head, just as he heard her bump into the shrine's display stand, and his heart broke. He could hear his daughter grab the sword from its resting place inside. He had barely time to comprehend the sound, certainly not enough to form words, as his daughter unsheathed the sword, and thunder broke the sky.  
  
***  
  
Thunder broke the night sky as a stream of anti-matter rained down like vengeance from on high. Crux had successfully defended against his enemies' rear ambush, but nothing could prepare him for the incredible pain of the particle attack. By all physical laws, unprotected as he was, Crux could not continue to exist in the flashing crimson fire, but he was not so lucky as to adhere to simple laws of physics. Every cell in his body suffered a thousand deaths and rebirths in a single instant, and he collapsed to the ground. He was still alive, but he wondered if it was worth the pain. His recovering vision revealed an enemy swooping down to finish the job.  
  
He laughed inside at the poor fool. Even if he was almost spent, how could his enemy, seeing him survive direct physical contact with anti-matter streams, not err on the side of caution? It mattered not to Crux, as the Tekkaman's finishing slash was met with a parry so powerful and accurate that it was itself an attack. Both blades stopped completely in that instant, as the ground below Crux erupted with the full force of the Tekkaman's momentum shunted into it. Crux's sword had been forged from an almost impervious substance in what could be compared to the raging fires of hell itself. It had been carefully maintained by the Caedon family for hundreds, possibly even thousands of years to keep it in perfect condition. The Tekkamen's weapons in opposition, were etched with anti-matter, retaining the ability to instantly erode and penetrate anything known to Radam science.  
  
It was no contest.  
  
As the Tekkaman's blade shattered, Crux's own continued it's arc and sliced through the opponent's shoulder blade, creating a massive wound that erupted in purple fluid. The man would survive, but only barely;he would certainly not be continuing the fight this day. Even as Crux took mild satisfaction in the man's continued life, it was extinguished by the last Tekkaman's brutal anti-matter onslaught. Crux managed to fall to the side, narrowly avoiding the condensed stream of particles, but he could do nothing for the Tekkaman whose life he had just spared, its every cell disintegrating in the anti-matter's wake. Crux landed on his side, his breath coming in erratic gulps. Turning onto his back, he gasped for air and closed his eyes. He had used all his strength left after the anti- matter contact to stop the second Tekkaman's attack, hoping for a chance to absorb its crystal into his own within his right hand. It had been completely destroyed in the last enemy's attack however, and he had nothing left. He had gambled and lost. All alone, there was nothing he could do but wait for the enemy to finish him off.  
  
He could hear the whine of the thrusters as the enemy turned to finish him off with one last attack. The thrusters grew louder as the enemy drew nearer. Crux wondered what it would feel like. He wasn't terribly afraid of death, merely upset that he had failed to accomplish what he set out to do. His arm was really quite uncomfortable.  
  
Funny, Crux thought, that he would worry about such a trivial matter at so serious a moment. Turning his head idly, Crux noticed something beneath his right arm. There next to him lay the twitching carcass of the first Tekkaman he had slain. Crux saw his palm's pale blue light reacting to one within the corpse's chest, and his right hand opened flat against it. The enemy zoomed in for the kill, crimson filled his vision, and as Crux looked death in the face, it seemed only appropriate that he black out. 


	6. Adrift In Twilight

There was no light. There was no sound. Crux felt a dull ache in the back of his head, pulsing and throbbing. He sat up quickly, the sound of his own movement startling him, so loud and foreign in the complete silence that surrounded him. He was certain that his eyes were open, but black was all that filled his view. Crux's hands fumbled about clumsily, feeling dirt beneath him as they wandered across the ground. Something bothered Crux about this overwhelming dark. Even at night the moon and stars should cast enough light to make out some details. There was something unnatural at work here. His left hand felt something beneath it. It took him a few moments to recognize it as the hilt of a sword. Something inside urged him to grasp it, and as his grip tightened, a brilliant blade of light burst into visibility, almost blinding in its radiance.  
  
Crux was unsure which confused him more, the sudden flash of light from the sword, or the way the darkness around him swirled away from the sword in shuddering convulsions, as if in fear or disgust. With a sudden gust of wind, the dark was no longer upon him, and instead was spiraling back up into the sky. The tendril of black was absorbed into a dark cloud in the sky, drifting off into the horizon. As the darkness lifted from his body, so did the fog lift from his mind. Crux's vision blurred as his eyes adjusted from the purest black to the dull red of twilight. It took him a few moments to sort out his memories and understand what had happened.  
  
Miya was dead. The realization washed over him once again, less shocking, and much more saddening. It enveloped his heart and squeezed the hope out of him. His daughter too, was gone from his life. His eyes turned first to the blade, its radiance almost blinding him even still, and then towards the dark ominous cloud above. He remembered images, sounds, and death, before the sky was shattered. His daughter had, in her fear, unleashed the holy fire that had for generations upon generations kept the blade perfect beyond comparison. Crux looked around, looking for nothing in particular, and noted with sadness that there was nothing more a large crater where his house had been. Indeed there was nothing left to indicate that anything had ever been there at all.  
  
He realized that was not quite true as his eyes adjusted to the new light. Sitting square in the center of the crater was the sword's scabbard, untouched, unblemished, and unceremoniously lying on one side. Still very much in shock, Crux stumbled over to the sheath and lifted it slowly, slipping the sword carefully inside. The lighting in the area dimmed gradually, as the brilliant white blade was masked from view. It had been a long time since Crux last held a sword in his hands. Before he had met Miya, a blade at his side was all he had needed. Now, holding the Caedon family heirloom in both hands, this sword was grossly inadequate. The only thing left of his family, the sword would - he was certain - always be a reminder of this day. The day that he was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life.  
  
**  
  
There was nothing left of the Caedon family home. A swirling dark miasma had churned down from the sky, engulfing everything in black. A man watched with very little concern upon his face, his stern black eyes gazing through the icy darkness. He knew what would happen next, he always had. As a brilliant white slash pierced the cloud, the man smiled knowingly. The cloud's dark coil curled back up into itself, and the man watched a lone figure within the newly made crater stagger towards the center. The figure reached down for a scabbard upon the ground, sheathing the brilliant sword, and the lighting difference was as night is to day. It didn't matter to the man watching however, sight was only one of many senses.  
  
**  
  
Something stirred. Crux felt it more than he truly sensed it. There was no sound, nor any visible movement. There was only an imperceptible feeling of motion tugging at the corners of his mind. He was not alone in the twilight. His hand gripped the sheath of the sword hesitantly. Whoever - or whatever - it was, it was concealing itself very well. But in the absolute silence, with nothing else to distract him, Crux was far from oblivious. As he closed his eyes, Crux extended his senses as much as he could. He could feel the movement increasing in speed, even the humanoid shape of the approaching form. His perception, while diminished from many years of quiet living, had once been enough to detect the most imperceptible of changes in the environment around him, even a single speck of dirt being pushed out of place hundres of yards behind him. However, something was definitely unusual here. He could feel the one approaching him increasing speed, but there was no disturbance upon the ground, and no noise to confirm a velocity that could only be a dead run. The feeling to him was not of this world, and he gripped the hilt of his sword tight.  
  
Something within Crux questioned the logic of defending himself if he had nothing left to live for, but the question was dismissed immediately. Miya would have scolded him for feeling so sorry for himself. He would welcome even her lectures now. How such a little thing brought tears to his eyes in this tense moment was beyond him, but he knew giving up on his life would serve no real purpose. His thoughts quieted as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He would not die here, there were things yet undone. His left hand gripped the hilt tight and he turned in a pivot, drawing the sword out into a brillaint horizontal swipe, the surreal blade leaving a trail of white as it arced through the air.  
  
The twilight was once again as day, and he could see everything clearly for a moment. He didn't note the difference in light however, as he was too surprised to pay it any notice. For while he had expected to see something hideous, some foul being capable of sneaking up behind him so silently, the last thing he had expected was to see nothing. Yet as his sword's arc finished, Crux saw nobody, nobody else at all. He could still feel the presence, like a nudge at the back of his mind. He was not alone, but no- one was there to be found. Prickles of cold ran down his spine as he realized the presence was right upon him. He turns and looked about frantically, but to no avail. There was nothing to be seen but the edges of the crater. In a panicked anger his voice rang out.  
  
"Who are you!? Show yourself!" If not for the strength of his feelings, Crux would have felt a fool to be yelling at nothing. However, with the day's events, and this unshakable cold feeling of dread gripping his body, Crux was hardly in a position to worry about such things. A moment brought the echo of his voice bouncing back to his ears from the edges of the crater. Shortly, however, another sound followed. Amused laughter filled the air, shaking Crux out of the slight trance he had fallen into. But instead of coming from behind him, or from either side, the sound was coming from directly above him. Startled, Crux tilted his head back and found himself staring directly into a pair of eyes as dark as the cloud that had so recently lifted from him. Crux leapt backwards and clutched his sword tight between both hands, staring in confusion at the man hanging inverted in the air.  
  
"Who are you? Answer me!" Crux's voice was unsteady as he struggled to regain his composure. He did not understand the source of this feeling, this fear running throughout him. The man was floating in the sky itself, yet this much was not the source of his anxiety. While he had hardly expected a man to fly, birds and insects often did the same. He did not know what it was about the figure before him, but there was something there, within his eyes, that held more power than any sense of dread could begin to attest to. The man crossed his arms and his eyebrow raised slightly, an annoyed expression on his face.  
  
"Do not so easily demand things of me, Crux Caedon. I am not impressed by your feeble attempts at swordplay. I am here to make you an offer, but you would be wise not to try my patience." Something in the man's tone was unusual in its implication. Crux was no stranger to arrogance and threats, but the voice was beyond anything he had ever heard. There was credence in the voice. There was no sound of worry, or of hesitation. Not the slightest hint of bravado rang within the man's tones. It was as if the man was far more than merely confident in his superiority over the world. It was as if he was completely certain of it. The words added depth to Crux's insubstantial anxieties, for the sheer conviction alone could mean only one of two things. Either this man was a lunatic, or he truly had no reason to fear anything. With the man floating in the air, neither was a comforting thought. Crux tried to slow his breathing and muster the strength to stare back into the man's eyes.  
  
"Whoever you may be, you could not have come at a worse time. I don't want anything from you. Leave me be." Crux's hands tightened around the hilt of his family's heirloom with tension building in his muscles. As he watched, the corners of the man's mouth turned down towards the earth. Crux found himself wondering if the man was smiling or snarling.  
  
"I disagree, churl. I have come at the perfect time, for I offer you something that you need now more than ever," The man's eye's took on a gleam as the last rays of sunlight framed his face, his jet black hair wavering silently in the wind. "I offer you power. The boundless power to destroy those who did this to your family. The power to make sure it never happens again. The power to change the very world. I offer you the power to facilitate vengeance. For this is what you want, is it not?"  
  
The words echoed within Crux's mind as something inside him clicked. That word - Vengeance - was that what he needed? Did he really need to find those who did this, to make them pay, to make them suffer as Miya had? To make them pay for what had happened to Sachi, was that what he wanted? It sounded so poetic, and yet, there was something about the word as it swam through his head. Would it really make them happy? They were already dead, could more death bring them peace? No, this thought, this 'Vengeance', it was...  
  
"Wrong." Crux spoke the word through clenched teeth, his eyes shut tight. His knuckles turned white as his hands tightened maddeningly in a death grip about the sword's hilt. The figure made an irritated sound and Crux opened his eyes to see him clearly troubled.  
  
"What a pathetic creature you are. Your family was murdered in cold blood, and yet you refuse the power to avenge them?" The man looked at Crux expectantly.  
  
"And where was this power of yours before?" The man's eyes narrowed at Crux's words. "If you have such great power, why didn't you save my family?" It was Crux's turn to sound dangerous, an edge creeping into his voice. "You were content to just sit and watch while my family was slaughtered?! What kind of monster are you? You could have saved them and yet did nothing, then come to me offering the gift of power as if you were some kind of benevolent deity? Leave now if you value your life!" Crux's eyes were red as he seethed; the blood vessels inside surging in his anger. Pivoting in the air, the figure floated down to land gracefully upon his feet, then lifted his head to look at Crux with an amused expression on his face.  
  
"If the cur is so anxious to strike its master, perhaps more thought is warranted first. Who is to say I merely watched while your family was slaughtered?" A large grin spread across the man's face, his eyes widening with his smile. "Perhaps I did more... Indeed it may very well have been I who killed your family. Yes, maybe I saw your lovely wife Miya and thought how enjoyable it would be to watch her die, her blood soaking the earth. Yes, that sounds about right." His words were mocking, deriding Crux with his nonchalance.  
  
He could not tolerate it any longer. Crux's eyes widened, a scream flew from his mouth, and the sword clove the sky in two. Blinding white light engulfed the crater as the brilliance surrounding the blade exploded outward, filling the night with brightness even as the force ripped the earth asunder, scarring the already scorched soil in one massive slash. The trees in the forest beyond were torn apart by the wind shear as the powerful sword continued its arc uninterrupted, burning a crescent into the ground ahead of Crux as his anger was channeled through the incredible blade, converted into the energy that now shook the heavens. Crux's hands slowed the slash and brought the sword down to rest in the ground, and it was over. He looked at the ruin and destruction that he had caused and frowned. Gritting his teeth, he exhaled and spoke loudly, shaking his head. "You had your chance."  
  
"So did you." Even as Crux spun at the sound of the words behind him, the thunder crashed into his side with incomprehensible force. His bones fractured and cracked from the shock as he flew through the air into the demolished forest, his vertebrae cracking upon his impact with a centuries- old willow tree. Cracks split through the tree as well, as it shuddered under the stress. His vision swam with strange shapes as he failed to move, speak, or even breathe. His body was all but embedded in the forest giant. Crux could feel blood running down the back of his head, and knew his internal injuries must have been severe. Blackness began to close in on his vision, and he found he lacked the strength even to keep his eyes open.  
  
"Not bad for a lowly human. I suppose you are of some worth after all. That would surely have killed most of your race instantly. However, you're still dying..." Crux halfheartedly attempted to respond, but could only manage a gurgle as he began to black out. "We can't have it ending like this, before it has even begun. I will make reparations for the damage done to your body, but perhaps in the future you will better keep yourself under control." Even as some dim part of Crux's consciousness vaguely registered the words, he could feel the blackness that surrounded his mind dissipating. There were however, other things he could feel that took first priority.  
  
The scream ripped itself from Crux's throat as he felt his bones snapping and crackling all over again, this time in reverse, colliding against each other and latticing together, resetting themselves and moving about inside of him back into their appropriate positions. The muscle tissues and organs were pushed abruptly aside until they too began to move within his body. The blood had stopped flowing behind his head. He didn't understand how, but his body was being healed. He realized as his eyes opened, revealing crude and distorted vision, that his retinas themselves had been damaged when he slammed against the tree. A mix of curiosity and horror filled him as he was able to watch the lens of his own eye reshape and re-align itself before his vision returned to normal. A golden glow surrounded Crux, small flecks of light occassionally shooting off into the darkness. He glanced up at the face of the man who had struck him down, and who was now repairing the damage that had been done.  
  
"It is fortunate for you that I am not the one who killed your family, or you would surely be dead this moment instead of staring at me with that sullen look of yours..." The soft glow highlighted the man's figure, his light armor standing out in the golden light. Pulsing blood red lines traced the contours of the chestplate, casting a subtle crimson hue upon it. "I have not yet rescinded my offer, but it seems to me I should give you time to rest and ponder. After all, you were dead moments ago. That must have been somewhat uncomfortable." Crux realized his body was completely healed, but that didn't make the pain any less real. It also did not do much for the fact that he was stuck within the tree.  
  
"If you have.. the power to cheat death.. why then did you not save my family?" Crux's question was filled with sorrow, and a moment passed before the man gave a wry smile.  
  
"Why Caedon, I thought I had made it clear. It is not up to me to save your family, it is up to you. When you come to your senses and decide to take this strength as your own, call on me, and I will be there." The man slowly lifted into the air and began to drift away.  
  
"What name then, should I spit upon the ground?" There was venom in Crux's voice, but no real ardor backing it. He was tired, and yearned for the blissful nothingness of sleep.  
  
The voice drifted out amongst the leaves of the forest, even as Crux's consciousness began to fade. "You will know when you need to know, Caedon, and not before. Sleep now, for the morning shall bring only more trials to overcome." Laughter accompanied it as it faded in the distance. "I do hope you manage to free yourself from that fearsome tree." As blackness engulfed his world once again, Crux far from appreciated the sentiment. 


End file.
